


love me right

by legendaryguitarman



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, collection of ficlets, pairings in ch titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendaryguitarman/pseuds/legendaryguitarman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of (unrelated) ficlets of various pairings.</p><blockquote>
  <p>“I fucked up," wails Jongdae.</p>
  <p>“Can you be more specific,” says Kyungsoo.</p>
  <p>“I told Joonmyun I wanted him to spank me and I think he had, like, five consecutive heart attacks. What do I do!?!?!”</p>
  <p>“Okay, here’s some advice: Go Fuck Yourself,” Kyungsoo answers. “Goodbye.”</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	1. cherryboy riot - suchen

**Author's Note:**

> collection of ficlets aka fics i will never finish so am posting under the guise of ficlets and not hello i am too lazy to actually finish this. sry 4 lame title i will repent

When Jongdae comes, it’s nice. 

He’s not just saying that because Joonmyun has his cock sunk deep inside him, hitting all the right places that makes him bite into the pillow because although Joonmyun looks like he’s never even heard of the word ‘dick,’ he’s actually fucking great at sex, but—okay, yeah, Jongdae’s just saying that because Joonmyun has his cock stuffing him full up to the brim and it feels goddamn amazing. They’ve been together for so long that everything falls in place, together, naturally, and Jongdae has still never been able to get over how strangely hot Joonmyun looks during sex, even with all the gross faces he pulls. There’s perspiration dripping from his temple and his hair is sticking wildly to his forehead from Jongdae’s fingers lacing through when Joonmyun had sucked him off a while ago, and Jongdae is struggling to keep his eyes open so he can soak in the gratification that he’s the one who’s made Joonmyun like this. Wrecked, ruined and his.

Joonmyun catches him staring and even with his hips snapping in a relentless rhythm, he smiles, and it makes Jongdae feel kind of sentimental. His chest squeezes oddly, all wheezy and tight, and Joonmyun always manages to do this: remind him how much he’s in love so it’s impossible to forget. There’s a moment, and then Joonmyun leans down to bump their noses together and Jongdae can feel Joonmyun’s mouth whispers his name, lips ghosting over his and eyes crinkling into crescents. Joonmyun takes him through it easy, hips stuttering as he grinds his cock against Jongdae’s prostate, and it doesn’t feel like this is just sex; with Joonmyun’s fingers laced between his knuckles, there’s an overwhelming sensation of what Kyungsoo calls ‘weak and futile human emotions’ entwined with the pleasure, like Joonmyun’s trying to reach for his heart (albeit with his dick, but Jongdae isn’t complaining). It’s toe-curling when the tight coil in Jongdae’s gut finally loosens and he completely loses himself, his orgasm washing over in in waves as he lets out a breathy moan and his back arches, hips pressing up and his cock brushing against Joonmyun’s abdomen. His legs, hooked around Joonmyun’s waist, twitch, and his cock jerks against his stomach as he comes in spurts over his fist and belly, only kept grounded to reality by Joonmyun kissing him with a soft insistence. 

In a haze of warmth flushing over his body like a summer’s rain and Joonmyun pressing his mouth to his neck, he thinks, yeah, it’s nice when he comes.

That, however, is just the problem.

“So what you’re saying,” Chanyeol’s like,” is that Joonmyun is sexing you up and you’re sad about it?” 

It’s the middle of the day and Jongdae has ditched his normal let’s-eat-salad-and-hate-ourselves buddy, Baekhyun, in favour of blackmailing Chanyeol down the phone to meet up during his lunch break. In his defence, Chanyeol really shouldn’t drink so much when he’s such a lightweight and take so many pictures of his dick if he doesn’t want Jongdae to steal them for ammunition, but Jongdae digresses. This isn’t about Chanyeol and his exhibitionist, Snapchat tendencies; this is about Jongdae’s relationship kind-of-but-not-really-problems. Chanyeol is his last resort—when he has a problem, Joonmyun is the one he goes to immediately because all his other friends are insensitive, soggy shitbags, and since his problem _is_ Joonmyun, that’s entire out of the picture. Usually, Jongdae considers Chanyeol a tiny fraction better at dealing with the whole feelings/emotions/relationship bullcrap because mostly, Baekhyun laughs at him, tells him to Google it, has the nerve to direct the conversation about his heterosexcapades when he isn’t even the main protagonist, and then flounces off to bury his head between his girlfriend’s legs, but currently, Chanyeol isn’t being particularly helpful at all. Jongdae has the sinking feeling of futility stirring in his stomach as he forlornly thinks about his situation. Or maybe that’s just the eight shots from Jongin’s Sehun Broke Up With Me (Again) and 2D Dicks Aren’t Enough to Satisfy Me so Let’s Get Ridiculously Drunk (Again) party last week coming back to haunt him.

“I am not sad about Joonmyun sexing me up,” he says. He closes his eyes and presses his fingers to his temples, trying to remain patient because it is not Chanyeol’s fault he was born with only five brain cells. “That is not what I am saying. I enjoy sex with Joonmyun. His dick is a majestic creature upon which I would gladly ride all day. He’s so good at sex. Exceptional, even. Eleven out of ten.”

“Okay,” says Chanyeol, still sounding a little bit confused. “Then why is that a bad thing?”

Jongdae flails his arms. “Because!” he says. “I don’t just want him to fuck me gently and hold my hands and, like, discuss life plans with me whilst he’s got his cock shoved up my ass. I don’t want to gaze into his eyes as he recites poetry to me in Shakespearean English and sets up a shared bank account when he’s fucking me with his dick. That’s nice and all, but I want him to _fuck_ me. Spank me. Choke me. Fuck me into the mattress and come on my face. Call me a bad boy and tell me Daddy’s gonna punish me. That’s what I want him to do! That’s the goddamn problem!”

Jongdae knows he doesn’t look like the type to be into weird sex stuff. He’s sort of scrawny and pasty and his eyesight is fucked from years of two am Pokémon training, which means on occasion, he has to wear these ugly-ass Harry Potter glasses and suffer the consequences. Joonmyun says he looks cute in them, but Joonmyun is a filthy genwunner and says Bulbasaur is the best starter, so Jongdae has his suspicions. Other than that, he works a normal nine-to-five office job, likes beating Baekhyun’s ass at karaoke, and sometimes wears sweaters because Joonmyun is a bad influence. If someone were to meet him, he knows their first impression definitely wouldn’t be ‘sex beast.’ But, not unlike how Baekhyun likes vaginas and collecting bottle caps and how Chanyeol enjoys downloading virus-ridden pornography to fry his hard-drive, Jongdae likes to have loud, kinky sex with whips and handcuffs. It’s always the short, unassuming ones that are the most unexpected, and as Baekhyun so tastefully puts it, Jongdae is a geek on the streets and a freak in the sheets. It’s simply something he’s never told Joonmyun. Joonmyun has never asked and it’s not the sort of thing you can just bring up during dinner, like, _Hey, by the way, I’m into light bondage and consensual bedroom roleplay!_  

But he has needs. And it’s Time for him to Do Something about them.

So it hits him, when he sees Chanyeol grimacing, that going to Chanyeol probably isn’t the best way to do something about it. “If you’ve quite finished monologuing,” says Chanyeol, “that was informative. And extremely disturbing. You know I still think of you as my nerdy tenth grade friend who was once convinced he could stuff an entire Yu-Gi-Oh! card into his left nostril, right? But I don’t get it. Why can’t you just tell him you want all that stuff? Joonmyun is a nice guy. It’s not like he’s gonna freak out. He’ll probably make milk and cookies and sit you down to psychoanalyse your suppressed childhood traumas.” 

“Do you even know Joonmyun,” Jongdae says flatly. “He’s so…Joonmyun. He’s Joonmyun. _Joonmyun._ He’s the kind of guy who, like, reads and stuff. I haven’t read a book since high school and I’m pretty sure Vogue doesn’t count. How the hell am I supposed to tell an angel that he fell from heaven to bang my ass like a fully-tanked jackhammer?”

Chanyeol purses his lips in thought for a while and Jongdae stabs at the tomato in his salad. Vaguely, he wonders what they’re having for dinner tonight. Chicken, maybe. Chicken sounds nice. Fried chicken. _Mmm._ He squishes the tomato with his fork when Chanyeol finally snaps his fingers. “Okay, I’ve got it,” he says. “I think you need to look at it from another perspective. Look outside the box. The metaphorical box. Why don’t you tell him you want to bang _his_ ass like a jackhammer? You know, expand your horizons.”

Jongdae throws a tomato at Chanyeol’s face and feels a vindictive satisfaction when the juice squirts into Chanyeol’s eye.

 

* * *

 

It’s not like there’s anything wrong with having sex with Joonmyun. Sex with Joonmyun is normal. And fun. Slippery, at times. Nice. Good. Once Joonmyun had him sprawled over the kitchen table and sucked him off like that and Jongdae couldn’t eat dinner for a week without feeling a little bit aroused.

It’s just that sometimes, Jongdae sees this glint in Joonmyun’s eyes. Joonmyun is synonymous with ‘kind’ and ‘generous’ and ‘thoughtful’ and Jongdae isn’t exaggerating whenever he tells someone Joonmyun is a saint, but sometimes, just sometimes, Jongdae thinks…maybe. Jongdae is bossy and pushy and Joonmyun’s a pushover and maybe, Jongdae wants Joonmyun to just tell him to shut up and to put him in his place. There’s a kind of darkness to Joonmyun that promises so much more, that tells him Joonmyun could fuck him, in every sense of the word; shove him up against the wall or command him to get on his hands and knees and bruise his hips with those strong hands and completely take him over. Shove his face into their white silk pillows so the neighbours wouldn’t hear him screaming and then tug him up by his hair so they _would._ But as soon as Jongdae sees Joonmyun’s eyes turn black from his blown pupils and his teeth sunk into his lower lip, Joonmyun seems to snap out of whatever he’s thinking and reverts back into the Joonmyun Jongdae knows and loves, which is totally peachy and great, except Jongdae feels like something is kind of missing. A part of Joonmyun is hidden away and even though they’ve been together for while now, Joonmyun has never shown that side of him to Jongdae. And Jongdae wants to see. He wants to coax it out.

He knows Joonmyun is capable of so much more.

 

* * *

 

 The biggest obstacle standing between Jongdae and making his fantasies become a reality is, Jongdae realises, Joonmyun himself.

Joonmyun is the perfect boyfriend. Literally. The epitome of perfection. The physical embodiment of perfection. Perfection itself, personified into one, small man with a blinding smile and soft hair. He doesn’t have a single flaw, unless the fact that he’s too nice, too kind, too generous, too thoughtful, looks too good in suits and lavishes too much attention on his boyfriend counts as a flaw. Which it doesn’t. So, in conclusion, Joonmyun is perfect. The Perfect Boyfriend.

He’s sweet. He’s kind. He’s cute and sexy and hot and adorably awkward and downright gorgeous and he can charm the socks off Jongdae’s mother when they go round for dinner, all at the same time. How that’s possible, Jongdae has no idea, but considering Joonmyun is practically angelic, it’s not particularly surprising. Joonmyun is around the same height as Jongdae so there isn’t any unfortunate neck-straining or tip-toeing, just to kiss each other (Jongdae isn’t going to mention any names, but, uh, a college experiment with Chanyeol, Chanyeol and fucking Park Chanyeol), and despite his small physique, he’s still strong enough, this air of dominance and leadership about him, that he can fuck Jongdae into the mattress (gently, whilst holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes and talking filthily about how he likes it when Jongdae pays rent in the view of the sunset from the kitchen window) and leave an imprint of his cock which Jongdae can feel, like a phantom touch, for days. Plus, Joonmyun is a part-time high-profile wealthy CEO of a famous pharmaceuticals company, inherited from his father at the young, tender age of twenty-seven; a part-time philanthropist, donating a sizeable fraction of his earnings to charity every month, and a full-time saint. Jongdae doesn’t know how many different ways he can put it. Joonmyun is perfect. God is missing one of his angels and like fuck is Jongdae going to give him back.

So Jongdae thinks that’s a pretty valid reason as to why he’s terrified of asking Joonmyun to spank him like the bad boy he is. They’ve been dating for more than a few months now, almost half a year, and their relationship is pretty solid, but it still feels a little early to bring up a sensitive topic like this. Asking Joonmyun to choke him might just give Joonmyun the aneurysm he’s managed to avoid, even through years of managing the company and handling his irresponsible secretary’s scandals. A part of Jongdae knows Joonmyun won’t flip out and throw a table at him like in those emojis Jongin spams him when oh my god Sasuke just TOUCHED Naruto their love is so real!! *flips table with the passion of one thousand Christs* because Joonmyun the chilliest dude and he wouldn’t break up with Jongdae over something so petty. But another part of Jongdae, the stronger, irrational part that tells him he can stand five feet from the toilet, trashed out of his mind, and still piss into the bowl, thinks, what if? What if Joonmyun thinks he’s a total weirdo and dumps him? Then where would he be? Life, fucked. Future, screwed. Present, living in a cardboard box on the street. God, he’d have to room with Chanyeol again.

(Basically, living in a cardboard box.)

As if to shove it into Jongdae’s face how high the stakes are, Joonmyun reaches over the table for Jongdae’s hand and laces their fingers together. Joonmyun’s hands are always so smooth, squeezing Jongdae’s reassuringly. The food on the table is momentarily forgotten, although it’s Jongdae’s favourite, and the traffic outside the apartment dulls to mute; Jongdae gets the same feeling he gets every time he’s with Joonmyun, where his chest feels wheezy and he just feels so in love. Goddammit, he’s so in love with Joonmyun. Joonmyun always makes him feel real human, goopy emotions. It’s an abomination and yet Jongdae can’t bring himself to hate Joonmyun for it when Joonmyun smiles at Jongdae and Jongdae grins back wearily, nervous because if he isn’t going to ask now, he’s never going to ask.

“Is everything all right?” Joonmyun says. “You look a bit…worried. If there’s anything on your mind, you can tell me, you know.”

A now-or-never moment. Jongdae has to seize the chance; Joonmyun’s practically handing it to him on a silver platter. He takes a long breath, inconspicuously through his nose so it doesn’t seem like he’s taking a long breath to prepare himself before he drops a massive bombshell of his private kinky desires and says, “Anything?”

“Of course. I mean, that’s what I’m here for—“

“I want you to spank me!”

Jongdae blurts it out less tactfully than he intends to. He’d planned on easing it into the conversation, but like everything that he plans to do, he fucks it up and clasps a hand over his mouth a second too late. Joonmyun is staring at him in wide-eyed shock, his hand going slack over Jongdae’s knuckles, and Jongdae feels a chill crawl over his body.

“Oh god, hyung, are you okay? I didn’t mean that! It was a joke! See, I’m laughing! Look at all the exclamation marks! Ha! Ha ha hahahahaha! Right?”

Joonmyun’s eyes have turned glassy and he looks as if he’s on the verge of passing out. Jongdae feels like he’s going to vomit out five litres of regret and bad decisions. He can practically hear Joonmyun’s soul leaving his mortal body.

“Joonmyun-hyung—um, are you there?” Jongdae asks hesitantly.

“…..”

“Oooookay,” says Jongdae slowly, pulling away from Joonmyun. Joonmyun is currently dead to the world. Jongdae wishes he were dead. “I’m just gonna…”

A strangled whimper comes out of Joonmyun’s mouth and that’s a signal for Jongdae to do what he always does in these situations: lie, cheat, knock over a few chairs on his way out and pin the blame on someone who doesn’t have an appropriate alibi. Okay, so maybe not the whole lying-cheating-retreating-to-Mexico-under-a-new-identity, but in two seconds flat, he’s out of the apartment and sprinting into the elevator. Waiting to reach the ground floor, he leans against the mirrored wall and whips out his phone to frantically tap in a few numbers, praying that the person on the other line will pick up.

“…Hello.”

“KYUNGSOO HELP ME I FUCKED UP.”

“Hello. Who is this. Chanyeol, is this you,” Kyungsoo says. At first, it’d been annoying, but Jongdae has gotten used to Kyungsoo speaking in constant deadpan. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know how to use question marks or how to express real human feelings. Much like his height, his emotional growth has been stunted.

Jongdae exhales angrily. “No, this is Jongdae. Don’t even compare me to Chanyeol.”

“Oh,” says Kyungsoo. He sighs dispassionately. “Who gave you my number.”

“Baekhyun, but that’s not the point—“

“Goodbye,” says Kyungsoo, and Jongdae lets out a totally manly shriek that penetrates the space-time continuum and echoes back to him through Kyungsoo’s side on the phone. “What.”

“I said, I fucked up!”

“Can you be more specific,” says Kyungsoo.

“I told Joonmyun I wanted him to spank me and I think he had, like, five consecutive heart attacks. What do I do!?!?!" 

“Okay, here’s some advice: Go Fuck Yourself,” Kyungsoo answers. “Goodbye.”

“Please don’t hang up,” Jongdae whines. “If you aren’t going to help me over the phone, I’m coming over. Get alcohol and snacks. Preferably Doritos. I like it lubed-up real good, with dip. Helps it go in easy. And that’s also how I take my Doritos. Prepare yourself, Kyungsoo. It’s going to be a long night.”

 

* * *

 

When you have a track record of having slightly homicidal, extremely anal-retentive friends and a tendency to forget to return pens, Jongdae discovers you become spectacularly good at avoiding people. Not that he’s avoiding Joonmyun, of course. He isn’t the type to resort to such passive-aggressive tactics, just because he’s ruined their entire relationship, carefully built on the foundation that Jongdae likes happy, vanilla sex and Joonmyun’s cooking. He simply happens to be at Kyungsoo’s apartment, coincidentally at the same time as Joonmyun comes home from work, and simply happens to return home to sneak into bed and pretend to be asleep when Joonmyun is showering at nine pm sharp because he’s a man of routine. Not. Avoiding. At. All.

“You’re avoiding him,” Kyungsoo says blankly, appearing out of the kitchen with a tub of popcorn in his hands. He’s given up on trying to kick Jongdae out because Jongdae bites and is a clingy bitch who won’t fucking leave. It’s his best asset, Jongdae thinks. “You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”

Jongdae glares at him under the blanket he’s wrapped in and turns up the volume of the television so it drowns out the sound of Kyungsoo’s unwelcome sarcasm. “Fine, whatever,” says Jongdae. “So what if I am? The technical term is a ‘tactical retreat,’ I believe, and I’m withdrawing from the battle to discuss further plans so I can win the war. Also, I’m too hot to be stressed so I’m eating away my failure with honey-butter chips and scrounging off your Netflix. Deal with it.”

“What are you even talking about,” says Kyungsoo. He shoves a fist into Jongdae’s left kidney and Jongdae rolls off the couch with an anguished wail. Sadly, that’s the most action he’s gotten in four days, which means he doesn’t say anything and revels in the Actual Human Contact, even if it’s from Kyungsoo. “You’re literally the most annoying fucknut I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. Get out of my house, you pathetic mole-man, and talk to your boyfriend. I bet he’s not even mad at you.”

“Yeaaaaah, how about no,” says Jongdae. When things go wrong, confronting the situation is the worst possible thing to do. The only thing to do is to repress the fuck out of it. “That sounds like a lot of effort and unnecessary apologising. I’m not about that life.”

Kyungsoo gives Jongdae the look he gives to the poor dead tigers before he skins them and Jongdae cowers because although Kyungsoo is a tiny, angry man, he has also found his true calling in taxidermy and has expressed his thoughts on the aesthetics of Jongdae’s head hung up on the wall of his lounge more than once. “Joonmyun is my best friend,” says Kyungsoo. “Okay, maybe not best friend, but he’s acceptable. Remember who got you guys together. Don’t let my effort to actually care about other people go wasted.”

Because it seems so unlikely, Jongdae often forgets that Kyungsoo had been the one to play matchmaker in his relationship. He had met Joonmyun through Kyungsoo during the second year of college; Joonmyun had been an upperclassman and Kyungsoo’s tutor during that phase when his grades were dropping due to ‘unprecedented personal reasons’ (slight detour off his education-trajectory when he’d decided to dabble into the Dark Arts and tried to make his own Horcrux). Joonmyun had been the only person whom Kyungsoo had deemed ‘okay-ish,’ despite the burn every time Joonmyun touched him with his holy, saintly fingers, and Kyungsoo had extremely reluctantly introduced Jongdae to the cute blonde in the ugly shirts. And thus began an era of rainbows, flowers, puppies in baskets and pretty much everything Jongdae’s ever wanted in life, minus the mild bondage and a Daddy to call his own.

“I hate it when you’re right,” Jongdae says broodily. He knows he’s just being cowardly and selfish and this isn’t fair at all to Joonmyun, who’s probably feeling like a lost and confused golf dad. He sighs, blowing a tuft of hair out of his eyes and scrambles back up onto the couch, curling into Kyungsoo’s big, fluffy cushions. Kyungsoo pats his head. “And I know that if I go back to Joonmyun and beg on my knees, he’ll smile at me with that damn angelic smile of his and tell me it’s okay and all is forgiven and bake me ten batches of my favourite cookies for trying. I know that’s what he’ll do because he’s Joonmyun, but he’s so out of my league that if I fuck this up completely, I’m never going to be able to find someone like him again.”

“Okay,” says Kyungsoo with an air of finality, and Jongdae glances up at him. Kyungsoo holds out his hand in front of Jongdae’s face, his pinky finger curled up. “Here’s something I wasn’t going to tell anyone ever, but I guess it’s time someone knows. Swear you won’t tell anyone else.”

“Is this some deep dark secret that will scar me forever?” Jongdae asks, hooking his finger around Kyungsoo’s anyway because he’s a sucker for gossip.

“Something like that,” Kyungsoo says. “Seriously, if you tell anyone, I’ll actually castrate you and hang your balls on my neck like a Viking warrior. I know I always joke about it but this time, I’ll actually do it. Seriously.”

“I swear I won’t tell anyone,” says Jongdae. He already has his phone out behind his back, speed-texting Baekhyun, the biggest gossip he knows, including himself and Sehun. He feeds off the humiliation of others; Sehun’s just an asshole.

“So, in college. Joonmyun and I weren’t just…tutor and student. To be honest, I understood the material within the first ten minutes of our study sessions. The other hour and twenty minutes…”

Quietly, Kyungsoo trails off, and suddenly, Jongdae gets it.

“Gross,” he says, “and also kind of hot. I’m keeping that as shower-wank material. Continue.”

“Anyway, we used to fool around quite a bit, nothing serious. And let’s just say that Joonmyun is rather—um, his interests stray a little from the conventional meaning of sex. Let’s put it like that. Trust me, when he isn’t holding your hands when he’s got his dick in you, only then can you truly experience the God-given gifts that are his Harry Potter Ass Hands.”

“Harry Potter Ass Hands,” repeats Jongdae.

“Harry Potter Ass Hands,” says Kyungsoo, nodding solemnly. “Magical, like Harry Potter; handy, like hands, and fucking amazing when they’re doing—well, I’ll let you find out.”

For ten seconds which feels like an eternity, Jongdae gapes at Kyungsoo. And then he laughs. “Oh god, I thought you were being serious for a moment. Joonmyun would never do something like that. He’s Joonmyun. Two weeks ago, he cried because he tripped on a Lego and was worried that he’d hurt its feelings.”

“I was being serious though,” says Kyungsoo. “I never joke about sex. It’s one of the few things in life that I have a passion for, including chopping your testicles off if you don’t delete that message to Baekhyun. Haven’t you seen that look in Joonmyun’s eyes? The one where he looks like he would fucking wreck you? Joonmyun’s into some freaky shit; he made me swear not to tell you because _he_ was scared you’d be weirded out. And now that I’ve told you, you must never tell him. Blood pact, Jongdae. Never. Tell. Him.”

That look. Jongdae knows exactly what Kyungsoo is talking about. The one Joonmyun gets when they’re kissing and Joonmyun bites on his lip and there’s so much want in his eyes. The one when Jongdae has his lips wrapped around Joonmyun’s cock and Joonmyun has a hand tangled in his hair, self-restraint millimetres away from snapping and fucking Jongdae’s mouth in the way Jongdae knows he could. The one Joonmyun sends him, the one that lingers, when he’s wearing the really expensive suit Joonmyun had bought for him to attend those important events they both hate so much, just because they know there’s something else they’d rather be doing at that moment. It’s that look, and in an instant, Jongdae knows Kyungsoo isn’t lying.

“Christ,” Jongdae breathes out. And he’d thought telling Joonmyun about his secret fantasies was a revelation, but this—this changes everything.

“He died for our sins,” says Kyungsoo wisely, “and ninety-nine percent of them were Joonmyun’s.”

 

* * *

 

Okay, so Jongdae might have over-exaggerated a tiny bit. Knowing that Joonmyun is an actual sex beast doesn’t really change anything at all because Jongdae hasn’t told Joonmyun Kyungsoo had told him about his huge secret. Sure, having Joonmyun slap his ass would be great, but when Joonmyun has gone to such lengths to avoid anyone finding out about his inner spanking aficionado, including mobilising Kyungsoo as his own personal ball-executor, Jongdae gets the feeling that Joonmyun hadn’t intended for him to find out. And that’s fine—Jongdae doesn’t want to force Joonmyun into anything he doesn’t want to do, and you know, he’s fine with extremely vanilla sex for the next fifty years. Whatever.

As per Kyungsoo’s instructions, he goes crawling back to Joonmyun with his tail, and regrettably nothing else, between his legs, and pins all the blame on Baekhyun for being a horrible influence with his freaky vagina stories. And as expected, Joonmyun gives him a massive hug and makes him ginger snaps for doing a good job of breathing and staying hydrated! It’s pretty anticlimactic, but it reminds Jongdae how much he cherishes this, makes him feel glad he hasn’t totally fudged this up, because Joonmyun’s ginger snaps taste like heaven and Jongdae likes it when Joonmyun hugs him, wrapped up in his expensive Armani sleeves.

Two weeks later, the incident is not forgotten, not to Jongdae, at least, though unspoken about because Jongdae doesn’t want to relive that particular tragedy. It feels like nothing has changed; it’s a late Monday evening and they’re both cuddled up together on the couch, Jongdae dressed in his old college T-shirt and Joonmyun wearing his favourite pair of ugly plaid pants. The television is playing some old black-and-white movie in the background, a crackly hum as Jongdae curls up on the sofa with his head resting on Joonmyun’s legs, cushioned by his dick and firm thighs. His eyes are droopy, almost falling shut, because Joonmyun is stroking his hair and touching the spot behind his left ear and tickling his belly and that always makes him feel sleepy.

“Jongdae?” Joonmyun says, quietly, yet still loud enough to grab Jongdae’s attention from his lethargic daze.

Jongdae likes it when Joonmyun says his name. Two syllables curling around Joonmyun’s tongue. It’s nice. Joonmyun’s voice isn’t exactly a choir of angels and he has the tendency to go off-tune when he’s singing Hyorin’s high note in _Alone_ as he showers, but it’s kind of soft and has an easy lilt which reminds Jongdae of home. He snuffles, a noise of affirmation, and his eyes flutter open, flicking his gaze up at Joonmyun, who’s biting on his lower lip and glancing down nervously at him. Jongdae has been with Joonmyun for so long that he’s learnt to read the nuances of Joonmyun’s body, even with the silence, and he knows Joonmyun, despite being warm-hearted and kind and all high-school-counsellor, isn’t the best at expressing his own feelings. It just takes a while for him to put his thoughts into words and Jongdae sits up on Joonmyun’s lap, pressing a kiss to the corner of Joonmyun’s mouth.

“Let’s do it,” Joonmyun finally says.

“Do ‘it’?” asks Jongdae, and Joonmyun actually blushes, his face flushing pink, and it’s really lame and kind of adorable at the same time. Jongdae knows it’s gross and sappy as hell, but Joonmyun’s so precious that he can’t help cupping Joonmyun’s jaw with his hands and kissing his mouth chastely, tasting the weird Chinese herbal tea and the ginseng vitamins he’s gotten so used to.

“I’ll spank you,” says Joonmyun.

What.

_What._

“What,” says Jongdae.

“I’ll spank you,” says Joonmyun, more firmly this time, but somehow with less conviction because he can’t even look Jongdae in the eye. “I want to. Make you feel good. I'll do it for you."

Jongdae doesn’t quite know what to say, so he simply kisses Joonmyun again and tries not to find it too cute when Joonmyun kisses him back and avoids his stare, his blush crawling down his neck.

“Hyung, look at me,” says Jongdae, squishing Joonmyun’s cheeks together, and Joonmyun reluctantly tears his gaze away from the suddenly extremely interesting coaster on their coffee table. “What do you mean you’ll spank me? Is this about what I said before? I know it’s in your nature to please everyone, but you don’t have to do it if you—“

Joonmyun interrupts him by shaking his head. “I want to,” he says. “Kyungsoo told me that he told you about, um, me.” Goddammit. Kyungsoo doesn’t trust him after all, Jongdae thinks. “I want to do it.”

So they talk about it in preparation under Joonmyun’s insistence, albeit awkwardly when they’re cuddled up in bed or when Jongdae has just come out of the shower, drying his hair with his towel, and Joonmyun asks him would it be okay if, um, Jongdae maybe sucked his cock a little bit? They discuss safe words—‘Chanyeol,’ guaranteed to kill any boner in an instant—and boundaries and what Jongdae wants—“I want you to tell me what to do. Like, sexy tell-me-what-to-do. I want you to be sexy-mean to me. And kind of slap my butt? And pull on my hair? Maybe choke me with your cock and come all over my face?”—and when Friday arrives, Jongdae is…slightly scared, the good kind of scared because the anticipation is building in his stomach. This is happening. Now that it’s come to the real thing, the thing he’s fantasised so much about for so long, he’s feeling nervous to do it, but Joonmyun’s hand smoothing down his spine sends a thrill through his body that culminates in affection blooming in his gut because Joonmyun still cares so much. He falls head-over-heels for Joonmyun again and again, and every time, Joonmyun is there to catch him. They’re kissing, curled into each other as he brackets Joonmyun’s thighs with his knees, and Joonmyun is easing him into it, starting off as they usually do. Like this, it’s easy and familiar and Jongdae relaxes, melting into their kiss.

Joonmyun kisses in a very certain way, Jongdae has realised. He leads, he controls, and Jongdae wants Joonmyun to do that to him completely.

“Are you sure this is all right?” Joonmyun asks for the millionth time, a murmur into Jongdae’s mouth. Instead of answering immediately, Jongdae loses himself in the sensation of Joonmyun sucking on his tongue and touching the sliver of skin where the hem of his shirt hitches up. Joonmyun slides a hand up the grey cotton tee he’s wearing and thumbs over his nipple and Jongdae gasps because fuck yes, this is more than all right.

“Hella,” Jongdae says, and Joonmyun laughs, low and soft. The sound goes straight to Jongdae’s cock, beginning to press against his underwear, and he rocks his hips into Joonmyun’s to prove a point, nipping Joonmyun’s lower lip with his teeth. “It’s really damn all right.”

The way that Joonmyun does ‘something about it’ is by lightly pushing him off so they’re both standing. Any trace of dorky Joonmyun, nice Joonmyun, the Joonmyun that helps old ladies cross busy roads and irons Jongdae’s shirts for him, disappears, and then, god yes, the Joonmyun Jongdae has been craving appears like a shadow, dark in Joonmyun’s eyes. Joonmyun is quite small in stature, but there’s toned muscle to his body, a quiet fierceness under his skin that Jongdae doesn’t have. Sometimes, Jongdae feels so _little_ beneath Joonmyun, shivering under Joonmyun’s hot gaze.

He fucking loves it.

 


	2. secret agent!au - sekai

“If I didn’t know any better,” said Sehun as he crawled his way through the vent and tried to ignore the dust that was getting up his nose and the spiderwebs getting stuck in his perfectly coiffed hair and the general ickiness of crawling through a vent, “I would’ve thought that this would’ve just been an excuse for you to stare at my ass.”

Jongin snorted behind him derisively. Or as derisively as a person who had thought skulking around in an air duct would be, quote, unquote, fun and more secret agent-y could, anyway, as opposed to Sehun’s much better, much faster, much cleaner idea of sneaking past the muscle-headed security guards to the target—Mr. Something-or-Other, Sehun forgot—but Jongin was stubborn. And stupid. Two things which did not go well together, hand in hand. He’d suggested climbing up through the drainpipe outside (dumb idea number two; number one was deciding to team up with Jongin in the first place) where it was slippery and dripping with the cold rain and old leaves that no one had bothered to clear away from the past autumn, squeezing into an open window and then into the complicated system of the air ducts.

It was fool-proof, Jongin had insisted. There was no way they would get caught, and in retrospect, Sehun thought, they probably should’ve planned it out before they’d set off on the mission like Joonmyun had advised, but recklessness was both courageous and idiotic. Fortunately for them, today Lady Luck favoured the brave and so far, everything had been going…okay, Sehun had to admit. Key phase being ‘so far.’

“How can I stare at your ass when there’s nothing to see?” Jongin replied over the clanking of the metal, probably rolling his eyes or flipping Sehun off because that sounded like something he’d do. Probably something he’d picked up from Sehun too. If there were something Sehun was proud of, it was his great influence on his friends to help them become better people. That, and also his really nice ass. Which was there, right in Jongin’s face for him to bask in its glory, thank you very much.

 _“_ Poor you. It must suck to be blind,” Sehun hissed back. They weren’t doing a very good job of being quiet, but being tall and handsome and having a six-pack and nice, broad shoulders with firm pectorals was not ideal for things such as fitting in small, cramped spaces that smelt like burnt potatoes and made Sehun’s lungs itch from, like, asbestos and the home of a hardworking spider who just wanted to provide for his family or some shit, and smearing dirt on his hands and knees. It was an outrage. An absolute outrage! Sehun only went on his knees for one thing and one thing only, and this was definitely not that one thing.

“Guys, come on,” Joonmyun’s voice crackled in through their earpieces. Great. Sehun braced himself for another lecture. “Jongin, stop being mean. Sehun, I’m sure your butt is lovely, but now is not the time to discuss it. Focus. Argue later. You should’ve been done already! Taemin and Minho are already in place. This should’ve been a quick, twenty-minute job. You’ve been in a goddamn _vent_ for thirty minutes! Get in, do your thing, get out.”

Sehun made a disgusted sound, which was pretty much just a normal Sehun sound because it was his Thing to be perpetually repulsed by anything that breathed in a ten metre radius, like how being a dickhead was Jongin’s Thing and how watching Netflix alone and crying into his popcorn after work and blowing his nose with money was Joonmyun’s Thing. “Ew, that’s gross, hyung. Oh wait, you’re talking about the mission. I thought you meant, _sex with Jongin._ ”

More static, and then Baekhyun’s snickering buzzed into Sehun’s ear. “Ooh, savage,” he said. “Also, you know I’ve got the blueprints for the entire building right in front of me? You could’ve dropped in from the roof vent and been there in, like, five seconds already.” 

Sehun had another retort ready on the tip of his tongue when the vent vibrated, the only warning before his ear drums popped from the massive explosion not so far away. It was totally dangerous. Really dangerous. Adrenaline thrummed in Sehun's veins. He had the passing thought that it probably wasn't the best time to get aroused, but danger and violence and everything he wasn't supposed to do had always made him  _want._

"What the fuck, Sehun, did you fucking fart or something?" Jongin yelled over the noise. "I told you you shouldn't have eaten that burrito yesterday!"

...Never mind. 


	3. suyeol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slight age difference, d/s elements. joonmyun is, like, a gangster boss with feelings or something and chanyeol is his favourite boy.

Most of the time, Chanyeol came over when he felt like it, but sometimes, Joonmyun asked him because though he was a patient man, even the most patient of men had breaking points and it seemed Chanyeol knew just which buttons to press to snap his. And sometimes, Chanyeol said,  _Okay,_ and he'd come over and they would fuck and in the morning, Chanyeol would leave. And sometimes, Chanyeol said,  _Maybe,_ probably shrugged in that faux nonchalant way where he pretended he didn't care, and came over anyway, staying for the breakfast he'd made Joonmyun promise to make him. 

 

* * *

 

Joonmyun wasn't very good at being forthright about this because Chanyeol was quite a bit younger than him and he felt awkward just asking Chanyeol to come over for sex. And that was all it was, a sex thing, probably, or that was what Joonmyun told himself at least. Which was good, because these kinds of things never turned out well when feelings were involved. 

Still, that didn't stop him from texting Chanyeol on a Thursday night with a nauseating anxiousness stirring in his gut as his fingers hovered over the send button.  _I bought a new bed,_ he typed because he was the kind of person who could afford to buy a bed purely for the purpose of having an excuse for Chanyeol to come over.  _I thought we could test its efficacy._

_We could break it,_ Chanyeol typed back five minutes later. 

_We could try,_ Joonmyun replied.

As it turned out, the bed was not so good for breaking, but well worth the investment for having Chanyeol beneath him, splayed out and pliant as he rocked down onto Joonmyun's fingers, his legs pressed to his chest and soft, high whines pulled from his throat as Joonmyun fucked him with them, stroking around Chanyeol's slick rim.  _Oh god,_ Chanyeol said when Joonmyun stroked his prostate;  _Get your cock in me--_ he said as Joonmyun pulled his fingers out completely and replaced them with his dick. 

Afterwards, Joonmyun collapsed on top of him and pressed his nose to Chanyeol's neck, inhaling the scent of sex that clung to the drops of sweat on his throat. He half-expected Chanyeol to leave at that point, but Chanyeol just pushed him away and groaned,  _Get off, you heavy fuck._ Joonmyun did, and Chanyeol rolled onto his side and pressed his cheek to Joonmyun's chest and they did nothing for a while apart from just breathe. 

When Joonmyun nearly drifted off to sleep, Chanyeol grinned, wolfish and predatory, and said,  _C'mon, old man. Tired already? You up for another round?_

And this time, they really did break the bed. 

 

* * *

 

They didn’t have much time before someone would notice they were gone, but Chanyeol smoothed his hands down the expanse of Joonmyun’s broad chest like they had forever, his mouth curled into that infuriatingly teasing smile. It was rough and lopsided and raw, and it made an unbridled fire burn in Joonmyun’s stomach. Their skin, against each other, was something Joonmyun couldn’t possibly get enough of; it was gorgeous in its own right, the way the sparks jumped off Chanyeol’s fingers and sizzled on Joonmyun’s abdomen, the glow and the burst as Chanyeol pressed himself down to Joonmyun’s body, long and feline.

“I kind of want to stay here, like this,” said Chanyeol.

“Yeah,” Joonmyun breathed out. His chest was oddly tight. “Me too.”

Chanyeol looked up, then, and there was that damnable smile. “But I want you to fuck me more.”

He wriggled his pants off, clingy leather, down to his knees, and spread his legs as far as they’d go with the waistband around them, and Joonmyun’s palms reached around to cup the soft swell of Chanyeol’s ass, one hand coming down to smack before he smoothed it over. Chanyeol’s body, hovering above him, was perfect. He was a lot taller than Joonmyun but Joonmyun was a lot stronger and he could pick Chanyeol up and bounce him on his cock because he looked so pretty when he did.

“Lube,” Chanyeol muttered, mostly to himself as he fumbled around in the back pocket of the passenger seat, searching for the packet of lube he'd probably hidden there because of course Chanyeol would have lube in his car. He smiled to himself triumphantly when he found it and threw another packet at Joonmyun. Condom.

"Come stains are damn hard to clean out of my car," Chanyeol said matter-of-factly.

"You have leather seats."

"And?" said Chanyeol. He shook his head as Joonmyun opened his mouth to retort and slapped his hand over Joonmyun's mouth. Joonmyun was overcome by a juvenile urge and poked out his tongue to lick at Chanyeol’s palm, and Chanyeol, surprisingly, laughed at the ticklish sensation. As if it were a second thought, he pushed his fingers through the tight seam of Joonmyun's lips and Joonmyun knew exactly what Chanyeol wanted even without words.

"Make yourself useful," Chanyeol said, and Joonmyun’s reply was muffled by the fingers in his mouth. He licked at the soft skin of Chanyeol’s fingers, three of them, as they pressed against his tongue, and he nearly gagged, but Chanyeol would've laughed at him so he suppressed the urge to. Closing his eyes, the sound of rustling came from in front of him and he glanced up to see Chanyeol trying unsuccessfully to rip open the packet of lube. He flushed angrily when he saw Joonmyun watching and pulled out his fingers.

Joonmyun didn’t help him. Chanyeol wouldn’t have wanted him to.

It was quick and dirty and Chanyeol had to silence a whine in his sleeve when he sunk onto Joonmyun’s cock easily, his stretched hole taking in the full length of Joonmyun’s dick as Joonmyun bottomed out with a moan. Chanyeol was hot, so hot around him, and the fire seemed to burn brighter than ever as he leaned down and bumped their noses together. His smile made Joonmyun a little bit scared. A good kind of scared. A little fear never hurt anyone. It was how Joonmyun remained in control, how he kept his men loyal to him, and it was what Chanyeol was doing to him now. And he—he liked it.

“Okay,” Chanyeol said, low and filthy, “fuck me.”

 

* * *

 

They passed each other taunts and most of the time Chanyeol acted like he didn't even like Joonmyun, but there was something about the sex, the soft curl of Chanyeol’s mouth in the afterglow as he pressed their cheeks together and nipped at the corner of Joonmyun's lips and the fire of his skin, that made Joonmyun wonder if this could be something else. Maybe.

 


	4. megalomaniac - suyeol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d/s elements, non-au.

Joonmyun doesn't have to be friends with Chanyeol to know what kind of person he is. 

They hadn't been friends at first, and sometimes, Joonmyun thinks that even now, they aren't friends. They tolerate each other to have somewhat of an amicable relationship, and by that, Joonmyun means they aren't at each other's throat at any given time in the day; to a passive onlooker, it might've resembled friendship, and he is, and all he will ever be, only an acquaintance and nothing more. 

Back then, when they were trainees and Chanyeol was brash and rakish and impossibly everything Joonmyun abhorred encapsulated in one person, he made it no secret that he did not like Joonmyun. He thought Joonmyun was boring. He thought Joonmyun was annoying and dull and an uptight, self-entitled, rich, privileged prick who thought that just because he’d been at the company for a few years longer, he was better than everyone else. He thought Joonmyun was fake because Joonmyun was nice and no one was _that_ nice without having ulterior motives. Joonmyun knew this because Chanyeol would do that thing where he’d pretend he wasn’t talking about Joonmyun, speaking in hushed whispers, whilst making it obnoxiously clear that he _was_ talking about Joonmyun because every so often, in between talking shit in the lowest volume setting he could handle, which was still pretty loud, he’d glance at Joonmyun and do a half-smug smirk, as if he knew Joonmyun knew exactly what he was doing and would do jack shit to stop him.

He still doesn't like Joonmyun. 

And Joonmyun doesn't like Chanyeol because he's right. 

Which doesn't explain why Chanyeol has sucked his dick. Why Chanyeol has begged him for his cock, on his knees with wide eyes and a wet mouth. Why Chanyeol moans so prettily when Joonmyun fucks him into the bed. Why he submits to Joonmyun completely, gives up all his control. His body speaks louder than his words; a man of his height and his strength could easily flip Joonmyun over and all Joonmyun would be able to do is to take it, but he doesn't. This goes unspoken and unexplained. Some things are better left unsaid. 

But then, it gets weird.

It gets weird when Chanyeol walks in on him jacking off.

Fine, okay, it’s already weird because Chanyeol fucking gets off on a guy who’s, like, ten centimetres shorter than him and wears ugly sweaters telling him to suck his cock and slaps his ass when he fucks him from behind, but get this, it gets even weirder when Chanyeol opens the door, saying, “Hyung, Jongin ate all the poptarts again—“ and has to stop midway through his sentence because Joonmyun has one hand around his cock.

If this had been literally any other time, Joonmyun wouldn’t have cared. If he’d been jerking off to some shitty porn of some woman with big tits all up in the camera and Chanyeol walked in, he would’ve probably asked Chanyeol to join him or something because apparently, that is the nature of their fucked-up relationship now. But he’s not. The room is quiet because Joonmyun has a tie roped around his jaw, damp where he’s biting down on it with his teeth, and the hand that’s not around his dick? It’s got another tie looped around his fingers, and Chanyeol’s eyes follow the black silk to where it’s wrapped around Joonmyun’s neck, and it makes sense now, doesn’t it? If Joonmyun jerked off like any other normal, sane guy, he wouldn’t have given a shit. Instead, he’s jacking off, _choking_ himself, gagging himself, and it isn’t even ten o’clock in the evening yet.

“Oh,” breathes out Chanyeol. “I should—I should go.”

But he lingers like he wants to stay. No, he lingers like he wants Joonmyun to ask him to stay.

And the hand around Joonmyun’s dick lingers like he wants Chanyeol to stay too.


	5. baekchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dumb boys being dumb boys.

Basically, when Baekhyun calls him over on a Saturday afternoon, Jongdae fully expects sex.

Okay, well, maybe not fully expects because Baekhyun hadn’t actually explicitly said, _LET’S HAVE SEX!!!_ but in Jongdae’s defence, the text message had been very suggestive. Okay, well, maybe not very suggestive. He’d kind of stopped reading after the word ‘chill’ and then Baekhyun had sent him a whole load of peach emojis, which definitely meant Baekhyun was thinking about his butt, probably, and Jongdae had been in an indulgent mood (see: very, very bored) and hopped straight onto his bike to cycle the ten blocks to Baekhyun’s apartment, ready to indulge his boyfriend in his wildest fantasies and let him eat the best peach he’s ever tasted.

Unfortunately, things do not quite turn out that way.

Jongdae is on the couch. Baekhyun is also on the couch. In an ideal world, Baekhyun would have three fingers up Jongdae’s ass and his lips on the sensitive spot on Jongdae’s thigh because the couch is the perfect place to have a hot, spontaneous afternoon fuck, but if Jongdae has learnt anything from two years of university and seven of being friends with Park Chanyeol, fate is a huge dickfuck. Baekhyun is playing on his phone, doing a really good job of ignoring Jongdae and not sucking Jongdae’s cock. It’s not that Baekhyun is a bad boyfriend, though. He’s not the best boyfriend in the world because Jongdae can’t really date himself, now, can he, but Baekhyun is still a good boyfriend. Most of the time. He’s kind and thoughtful and funny and they have a lot in common, like Star Wars and putting emphasis on random _words_ to make _everything_ sound like weird sexual _innuendos_ and making fun of Kyungsoo and hiding from Kyungsoo when he gets mad and begging for their life when Kyungsoo somehow manages to find them locked in the farthest cubicle in the third floor girls’ bathrooms on campus. Baekhyun is just…y’know, he’s that type of guy that when he finds something which piques his interest, he gets really caught up in it. Whilst that usually works in Jongdae’s favour, normally when he has his shirt off and he’s splayed out on the bed, ready and waiting, he discovers that apparently, a phone is much more exciting than the prospect of having couch sex with him, which everyone knows is the best kind of sex. Jongdae’s not mad because Baekhyun isn’t sucking his dick. He would gladly suck Baekhyun’s dick. He’s just mad because there is an appalling lack of dicksucking going on and this is not worth getting laughed at by some eleven year old kid at the park for using stabilisers as he sweated his way here.

“Whatcha doing?” Jongdae asks, squinting at Baekhyun’s screen. He hopes Baekhyun can tell he’s bored. He’d gotten bored ten minutes ago after he’d counted all the squares of Baekhyun’s tiled flooring. Every single one of them.

“Playing CoC,” says Baekhyun.

 _I wish you’d play with my cock,_ thinks Jongdae. God, he’s desperate.

He lets his head fall back onto the cushion and tries not to sigh. “Is it really that fun?”

“Yeah, we made a clan and no one’s letting Chanyeol join because he’s shit at this. He’s getting so mad; it’s hilarious,” says Baekhyun. “Almost as fun as sex.”

Now _that_ makes Jongdae sit up and stare at Baekhyun, who’s set his phone down in his lap and has that smile on his face, not quite a smirk, but there’s something about it, unsaid promises and a look in his eyes that makes fire crawl up Jongdae’s neck to his cheeks, and even though it’s one of those weirdly cold Aprils that come around every decade, it suddenly feels so much hotter and Jongdae has a pretty good hunch as to why. Baekhyun leans in until Jongdae can count the seconds of the space between them: four, and then Baekhyun stops and Jongdae can’t help wanting him. He runs a finger up Jongdae’s neck and tips his chin up, his thumb pushing Jongdae’s bottom lip down, and Jongdae resists the urge to swallow the breath that’s stuck in his throat. By no means is he a virgin; he’s had sex before and he’s had sex with Baekhyun before and it feels like a spiritual revelation every time, as if he’s found his higher self, because Baekhyun’s hands are damn erotic and he knows just how to use them, but for all of his bravado and dirty jokes, Jongdae flushes pink and he can almost feel Baekhyun’s lips on his, a bit dry and very, very soft. His hand curls against his knee to ground himself from the freefall in his stomach he always gets whenever Baekhyun does _something_ ; Baekhyun’s eyelashes are fluttering like Jongdae’s heart, feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest and tug Baekhyun closer, into the gap that’s between them.  

“Wanna prove it?” says Baekhyun lowly. His tongue peeks out, swipes at his lower lip. Jongdae knows how that feels too, warm and wet.

Baekhyun is so close. There are freckles beneath his left eye, the small cluster that only comes out in the sun, and Jongdae wants to kiss the mole he hates so much on his upper lip, and then the rest of him. Jongdae squeezes his eyes shut.

“I—“ begins Jongdae.

“Just joking!” Baekhyun laughs as he pulls away and turns on his phone again, collecting a treasure chest. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Jongdae takes a deep breath to soothe the turbulent waves of anger in his soul. Happy place, happy place. Think about happy things. Puppies. Hockey. Parks and Recreation. That time Kris had lost a bet and had to go out in public wearing a miniskirt and crop top that had ‘JUICY’ printed over his visible lack of juiciness. That same time Kris had lost a bet and tripped over in public over nothing, flashing everyone his bright green panties. Burgers. Pancakes thicker than Chanyeol’s brain. Maple syrup on pancakes. Maple syrup and strawberries and cream on pancakes. Mmm, yeah. The slightly less turbulent waves of anger are slightly soothed by thoughts of food and other people’s misery, but he still swears he’s gonna punt Baekhyun back into tenth grade—that is, in the closet. But this time, in a black trash bag.

His face hasn’t stopped burning. He presses his palms to his cheek and glances over to Baekhyun, who looks completely nonplussed and is messaging Sehun on LINE to decline Chanyeol’s requests. The fucker doesn’t even have the decency to look like he’s at least a tiny bit affected by Jongdae’s irresistible charisma and dashingly handsome, 2D animated good looks and general presence.

“I’m gonna get s-something to drink,” he says. The stutter in his voice doesn’t go undetected by either of them because why else would Baekhyun have that dumb knowing grin on his face, and Jongdae quickly retreats to the kitchen, contemplating his Lyf Choicez over a refreshing glass of orange juice and Repentance™ when he spots something on the kitchen counter that gives him a rather good idea.

Of revenge.

Jongdae wouldn’t say he’s a particularly vengeful person. Anyone who knows Jongdae well wouldn’t say he’s a vengeful person. That’s because he’s a _very_ vengeful person. It’s the reason why Kris is terrified of him, despite the fact that Jongdae barely reaches his shoulder, and why Chanyeol can’t look him in the eye for making his bro-crush wear the outfit that’s starred in many of his bro-wet dreams. And why the mere mention of ‘Mario Kart’ makes Jongin crawl into the corner and cry into the drywall. And why Sehun has recurring nightmares about Yoshi hitting him with green shells. The only exception is Kyungsoo because he’s the only person that’s more sadistic than Jongdae. Jongdae has piledrivered Chanyeol onto concrete floor without a single bit of regret before, so that’s really saying something.

So if Baekhyun is going to tease him like this, Jongdae has no qualms about teasing him back.

 

 


	6. Do Not Fall in Love With a Person Named Byun Baekhyun, 11/10 Would Not Recommend: A Memoir by Do Kyungsoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hashtag this is dumb

If the dude who created the universe was anywhere near to being a half-decent guy, he wouldn’t decide to metaphorically jimmy-jam his metaphorical dingdong into Kyungsoo’s metaphorical pooper-shooter without lube every two seconds and it would’ve gone something like this, how it should have happened:

The couch is small, but the two of them just fit, squished up next to each other. Kyungsoo has his laptop on his knees with the article he’s supposed to be editing on his screen and his essay in another window, and Baekhyun is slouched next to him with his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, watching some old chick-flick. Kyungsoo isn’t really sure what’s going on; he’s been too busy watching Baekhyun instead—Baekhyun’s sleepy eyes and the way Kyungsoo can feel the softness of Baekhyun’s hair, illuminated by the dim television light, ghosting on his hands and Baekhyun licking the butter of his popcorn-y fingers. Baekhyun has really nice fingers, elegant and long and thin; they remind Kyungsoo of a girl’s, but. Nicer. Unfairly nice. He’s a little bit too caught up in his thoughts to notice the cheesy confession that’s playing on the screen and he’s even more distracted when Baekhyun tilts his head up and laughs with mushed-up junk food in his mouth and crinkly smiley eyes and Kyungsoo doesn’t even have time to splutter and protest that he’d been working on his article all along.

What he does have time to do is feel his tummy flutter and his chest do The Wheezy Thing. No. Stop that, chest! Don’t do the wheezy thing! Which works, but only because his pants are doing the tighty thing, Jesus-holy-dickshittin’-Christ. Bad pants. Very bad pants!

“Oh man,” Baekhyun splutters through giggles, “that was gross.” Yeah, he giggles. _Giggles,_ into the back of his hand, faux-diffidently, and why that makes Kyungsoo’s Dangly Bits not so dangly anymore, Kyungsoo doesn’t know. Well, he does. Maybe. Or something. He just doesn’t want to admit it. He will never admit it. That’s right, fuck you, universe! You thought you’d got one over Do Kyungsoo? Well, think again! Kyungsoo is not admitting to anything because there is nothing to admit to; his dick’s just flipping a massive bird to The Man!

Universe, zero. Kyungsoo, one.

“Huh?” says Kyungsoo. Very intelligently.

Universe, one. Kyungsoo, one.

Ffffffuck. Baekhyun is goddamn sucking the grease off his fingers like he’s in some shitty, low-budget porno, not that Kyungsoo knows anything about low-budget pornos, and there is no way he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. The little fucker is doing it on purpose, Kyungsoo can tell. These kinds of people? They’re the lowest of the low. They’re the cumstains of life. They’re the humiliation, regret and shame when you walk out the room with questionable things on the pants you’ve worn for four days straight because you’ve only left your room to pee, until the third day, anyway, because then you’d found out how useful empty Coke bottles were. They are the worst, and Baekhyun is the worst of the worst. He is the worst-est.

“I can tell someone’s been paying attention to the movie,” says Baekhyun, amused, and Kyungsoo shrugs Baekhyun’s head off his shoulder. He does not miss the warmth of Baekhyun pressing against him, not at all. “Okay, so like, the girl just did the grossest confession ever and I have no idea how the dude got through this scene without laughing because holy shit, this is horrible. Why does Jongdae like this stuff?”

“Because he’s dating Joonmyun,” Kyungsoo replies, like it explains everything. Which it does, because Baekhyun nods knowingly and then dissolves into another fit of giggles because something else is happening that’s evidently hilarious and too much for Baekhyun’s tiny glial cells, rotting in the fetid pisshole that is his brain, to handle.

Kyungsoo stares at him a while longer, then shakes his head. Baekhyun is spraying flecks of convenience store popcorn over the coffee table and reaching for Kyungsoo’s soda. Disgusting. Him, Do Kyungsoo, in love with Byun Baekhyun?

Impossible.

Universe, one. Kyungsoo, two.

...Of course, that is naught but a pipe dream. Unfortunately for Kyungsoo, the dude who created the universe is an asshole, and how it actually happens is like this:

The couch is small, but the two of them just fit, squished up next to each other. Kyungsoo has Baekhyun sitting on his knees and his hands down the back of Baekhyun’s jeans and his shirt is? somewhere? not on his body? and someone’s making a soft groaning noise—and oh, that was him—and Kyungsoo thinks something definitely went wrong here.

But then Baekhyun bites at Kyungsoo’s lower lip with his small square teeth, fucking perfect teeth, and licks away the worries in Kyungsoo’s mouth and whispers, “You think too much,” and his skin is so hot where it presses against Kyungsoo’s chest and Kyungsoo may have won the countless battles leading up to this very moment, but in the end, he lost the war.

Universe, one. Kyungsoo, also one, because he might’ve fallen in love with this dork, but he’s getting laid, so fuck you, universe! And more importantly, fuck Baekhyun.


End file.
